


when the world finally stops

by nishanightray



Series: growing attached series (juzen) [3]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Third Person, Slow Burn, but there's a bit of zen's at the end, kinda introspective, mostly jumin's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:30:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishanightray/pseuds/nishanightray
Summary: Zen is so, so warm. Jumin pushes himself up a bit and brushes his lips against his naked shoulder, biting into it without any strength or will to do anything more. (But what will I do, he thinks as he's falling deeper and deeper into the slumber, what will I do if I become too addicted to sleep like this?)





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! so, it seems that my inspiration hasn't died yet, so i'm probably gonna keep writing this series of juminzen until i have no more ideas :')  
> thank you to all the people who have read my other stories about them! i really appreciate the kudos, the comments and the bookmarks ♥

As his body starts waking up, the first thing that hits him is the pungent smell of cigarettes, mixed with a faint, sweet aroma he cannot recognize. Jumin immediately decides he doesn’t like either of them and rolls over to press his face into the pillow, clinging to it; his stomach is rumbling, low and ominous, but he chooses to ignore it. He’s fairly sure that he has got the morning off from work and he's not anxious about Elizabeth 3rd, as he knows she's safe and sound in Jaehee's apartment, so  he doesn’t want to get up yet. He tries to summon back his slumber and whatever dream he has been having, but it has already vanished, melted away by the sunlight that is peering through the window.

Something that sounds like a loud pop alerts his sense of hearing, waking his mind completely. Jumin finally allows his eyes to flutter open, although he doesn’t move from the position he’s rolled in, with his face half-pressed into the pillow. His gaze wanders about the crinkled, cream colored sheets on the bed –he’s still sleepy, but he knows right away it is not his own bed. Frowning, he continues to look around, as much as he can without having to move; he catches a glimpse of a custard colored wallpaper and he then looks towards the room in front of him, separated from the bedroom only by a opened door. It might be a kitchen, but he’s not sure. Zen is leaning on a counter, smoking a cigarette while holding what looks like a can of beer with his other hand, and Jumin is suddenly reminded of where he is –a common, modest love hotel that Zen has insisted on going to.

He remembers clearly their discussion about the usual expensive, high class hotels Jumin has been inclined to choose (“They give you only wine drowned in buckets of ice, might as well shove the fact that they have money in your face! I don’t even _like_ wine!” “I like it just fine. Aren’t you just being picky?” “Well, I like beer better, you selfish prick!”), and he does not remember why he has let Zen get away with it, but perhaps the trail of angry red bite marks adorning Zen’s throat might have something to do with it.

Jumin feels himself smirking as he can easily spot and count them even from a two, three meters distance. There are probably more, he thinks as he slowly scans the other. Zen is wearing only an undershirt and a half-buttoned shirt, which falls off his naked shoulders, showing more reddened skin; he has probably used the shower and some bath product that makes him smell sickeningly sweet. For once, his silvery hair are untied, messed and unruly, as though Zen has not bothered to fix them, not even completely drying them out. It is quite unexpected, considering how much Zen values his own appearance, but it is perhaps not so strange –he has never cared about how he looked in front of Jumin, never cared about impressing him. He surely doesn’t seem to care about good impressions as he sips beer from a can and smokes at seven a.m., instead of having a healthy meal for breakfast. Jumin also notes that Zen looks tired and overall an absolute mess, and comes to the conclusion that he likes him more than ever when he’s like this, raw and vulnerable and almost knackered.

(Jumin actually wants to mess him up more).

Suddenly, the bed doesn’t seem as enticing as it has been before. It’s a double bed, not king-sized, but large enough for two grow-up men; nonetheless, Jumin knows they have slept pressed against each other. He feels cold now that the other side has been left empty and he's also reminded that he's not wearing anything but his boxers.

He doesn’t think he has slept so soundly in a long, long time, nor has he ever desired another person’s warmth. He’s not used to share a bed with someone else other than Elizabeth 3rd. Before hooking up with Zen (which was totally by chance, now that he remembers; he wonders if it would have happened anyway, sooner or later, even without that unfortunate kiss under a mistletoe at Rika’s Christmas party), Jumin has never even thought about having a relationship. Other than V and Rika, he has never had many friends, so he has never really met anyone he’d want to deepen his relationship with. For years, his world has been spinning at what seemed to be a far too high speed compared to his equals in age; it’s like his life has been moved forward with a remote control, so that years and people and thoughts have passed by him before he could even recognize them. He has never stopped long enough to care about things like relationships, or what they call ‘love’.

Zen has finished his cigarette. As he exhales the last ring of smoke, he puts out the cig, squashing it in a plastic ashtray, then sighs and finishes drinking his beer too. As soon as he puts down the can, though, their eyes finally meet: Zen’s gaze locks on Jumin, seemingly surprised to find him awake, and the world suddenly comes to a stop.

“What? If you are awake, just say so… Don’t stare at me like a creep,” he says. He sounds annoyed, his voice kind of raspy. Jumin wonders if it’s because he has been smoking, or rather because of what they’ve been doing the evening before. Zen grimaces, as though he has also noticed how his voice sounds; he doesn’t seem to like it, so he clears his throat lightly while he tugs at the stranded locks of hair which fall on his face, pulling them back behind his ears, which have turned into a wonderful shade of pink. Jumin has known him long enough to know he’s embarrassed, or nervous, or annoyed.

Or, most probably, all of the above.

“I didn’t want to move.”

“Well, I can see that—”

“But now the bed is cold,” Jumin interrupts him bluntly. He pushes himself up on his elbows, shrugging off the rough sheets (oh, he really miss the feeling of his silky blankets back at his own house), and his grey eyes bore into Zen’s perplexed ones. Jumin believes it’s ironic how Zen always boasts about his romance experience, but can’t understand what he is trying to say. As he has thought, being direct is always best.

“I can’t fall asleep because the bed is cold. Come back here,” he says, matter-of-factly, and watches as realization dawns on Zen’s face.

“What makes you think I will, just because you asked me to?” Zen says, crossing his arms on his chest. His words, however, seem not to match with his actions, because he has actually moved closer to the bed. Now that they are so close, Jumin suddenly notices the stripes on the buttoned shirt Zen’s wearing, and instead of answering his question he asks another.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

Judging from the look on his face, Jumin can tell that Zen hates him with burning passion for having brought that up. Zen’s ears have turned scarlet; he’s glaring at him, but he doesn’t deny it, nor does he avoid his gaze. On the contrary, Zen throws him a defiant look, as though he’s challenging him to find something wrong about it. More than anything else, it’s that kind of look that ignites in Jumin an urge to have him here and now.

But now he is tired too, and he just wants the warmth and the slumber to come back for a little while more. It’s not every day that he gets to be lazy, or that he wants to be, for that matter. Today, he feels like he needs to take things at a slow, calm pace,  which is unfamiliar but not unpleasant.

Even though he feels his mind already drifting to sleep again, Jumin stubbornly keeps his eyes open to look at Zen and see what he’s gonna do. He’s definitely not surrendering to sleep until Zen comes back to bed, and he wonders what he could do or say to convince him. It has never been easy for him to communicate with Zen, since they have such a different personality and Zen always seems moody around him, ready to snap at him anytime. Jumin thinks Zen might have softened a bit recently, but their relationship is still far from safe and sound.

His body slips against the mattress again, his ruffled hair falling on his forehead as his right cheek presses against the pillow. His eyes are closing against his will and he sighs, frustrated, and frowns. It’s in that moment that he feels the mattress dip beside him and a whiff of Zen’s smell makes his nose itch. It’s a really awful mixture of cigarettes and vanilla shampoo, but Jumin can’t bring himself to care at the moment; he instinctively snuggles closer to Zen, slips his arms around his body and his hands under the shirt ( _his_ shirt, he remembers. He should definitely have sex with Zen while he’s wearing it. Next time.), pressing his fingertip in his skin. Zen is so, so warm. Jumin pushes himself up a bit and brushes his lips against his naked shoulder, biting into it without any strength or will to do anything more.

( _But what will I do_ , he thinks as he's falling deeper and deeper into the slumber, _what will I do if I become too addicted to sleep like this?_ )

.

.

.

.

As soon as he feels Jumin’s teeth against his skin, Zen starts to protest.

 “Hey— _You selfish jerk_ ,” he hisses, “don’t even think about leaving any more marks, I have had enough for at least a week—” he interrupts himself as he notices that all of his complaints would come to nothing: Jumin has already fallen asleep again. Zen glares at him, thinking he looks stupidly at ease; in fact, he doesn’t think he has ever seen Jumin this relaxed before. He thinks back to how _soft_ Jumin’s eyes looked while staring at him from the bed, and he’s suddenly reminded of that slow, tender kiss they have shared during his modeling job, nearly two weeks ago. He doesn’t know what it has been going through Jumin’s head; _that goddamn Jumin Han_ , always doing and saying whatever he wants, never taking in consideration others’ feelings. Zen thinks about pushing him off the bed in retaliation for turning his mind into a mess, but then somehow gives up on it; he also gives up on resisting kissing him (he has wanted to do that for a while, now; he doesn't want to think too much about it) now that Jumin can’t see him.  

“You are really so self-centered,” he mutters, but wonders if he’s not getting more selfish, too.

**Author's Note:**

> the thing that really gets me about juminzen is that, although i still think they would initially just hit it off as sex partners, i'd actually love to see them become closer and closer...  
> ofc that doesn't mean they're gonna get along better right away. while they're well used to the physical aspects of it, their feelings develop very slowly, with hesitations and doubts on both parts. zen finds it difficult to accept he likes jumin; jumin just finds it difficult to understand how relationships work in general (this is also true in the game and it becomes very clear in his route, but i feel like it's hinted several times through the game).  
> well, the bantering part is still the core of this ship (lol).
> 
> comments and kudos are highly appreciated! as usual, english is not my native language, so if you see any mistakes don't be shy to tell me :')


End file.
